Page 71 of Wicked Dove
I need to get out of here. His rage is uncontrollable and I don’t want to see what happens next.
The moment I turn, ready to make a run for it, Kael looms over me, hands falling to my shoulders as he roots me to the spot.
“Help him.”
“Help who?”
“Rion.”
I balk as I follow his line of sight, glancing at the wolf determined to rip the vampire into shreds, and I shake my head. “There is no helping him,” I admit, but the words feel feeble on my tongue.
“I think there is if it’s you,” Kael insists, his eyes trained on mine.
He’s either not going to let me go without trying, or force me to. Either way, I know there’s no running. A reminder of yesterday flashes in my mind and my desire to run ceases. He deserves for me to return the favor, or at least try to.
Turning to the carnage, Kael’s hands drop from my shoulders, but the second I try to step toward them, the professor shoves me back, straight into Kael.
“Stay back,” she snarls as Kael’s hands wrap around my middle, keeping me from falling.
I blink in a mixture of confusion and bewilderment before I scramble out of Kael’s hold and stand toe to toe with the professor. “Don’t ever touch me again,” I bite through clenched teeth.
Fuck this all to Hell if people think they can just push me around. Unfazed by who or what she is, I shoulder past her with more force than is necessary, only to drop to my knees at Rion’s side.
I can feel eyes on me from every angle, but I’m hoping they’re too invested in the chaos to realize my part in it all. Tentatively, I place my hand between his shoulder blades, fear zapping through my veins as I brace for impact.
He freezes, standing tall over Tiran, who is still currently in one piece. He continues to snap and snarl a few times, but the ferocity isn’t there.
“Rion?” I breathe, and he tilts his head toward me. I dare to run my hand through his fur and it eases the tension rippling through him as he nuzzles the tip of his nose into my neck.
I should be freaking out right now. There’s a big-ass brown wolf touching me. Not just any wolf, one that was a man mere moments ago, and not just any man either; Rion.
A hand lands on my shoulder and I glance behind me to see Kael, but before he can say a word, the professor’s voice cuts through the air.
“Get out of here, Rion. I’ll deal with you later,” she warns, but Rion doesn’t turn to her. Instead, he stares right at me. I can’t breathe as he makes my racing heart lurch from my chest as he nuzzles his nose into my neck again. I manage to ghost my hand through his fur one last time before he takes off without a backward glance.
Tiran whimpers on the ground, writhing like he’s dying, but I don’t feel an ounce of sympathy for him. He doesn’t deserve it. He’s a giant ass, and I’m ready to tell him just that when movement out of the corner of my eye turns my attention away from him to find the professor wagging her finger in my face.
Her eyes are dark, a swirling concoction of contained rage and disbelief. Her entire body vibrates with anger and she seems unfazed by the audience we’re still surrounded by.
“You… with me. Now.”
TWENTY-THREE
ELODIE
Despite my desire to run after Rion, I turn on my heels, feeling the eyes of every other student on me as I go. Ocean offers me a tight smile, a slight vote of confidence, and I try to soak it in as I cut across the grass.
The professor, whose name I’m still not aware of, doesn’t let up as she approaches the stadium, swinging the nearest door open with so much force it ricochets off the wall and I’m certain I feel the ground shudder beneath my feet. By the time I get to the door, it’s firmly closed again. I consider unleashing my emotions on it too, but decide to take the higher ground, opening it with a little more grace as I step inside.
It smells like the locker rooms back home as I cautiously make my way down the white-washed hallway. My connection makes sense when the first two doors I pass are both labeled as men’s and women’s locker rooms. It’s the door at the very end of the hall that has a name engraved on a gold plaque, and I assume that’s where I’m supposed to be heading.
Professor Laurie Drayker.
The door is slightly ajar, and as I draw closer, I spy the woman in question pacing on the other side. I lift my hand,considering whether to knock or not, but before I can come to a decision, her gaze snaps to mine through the gap.
“Get in here,” she snarls, her features scrunched in distaste as she glares at me. Pushing the door, I step into her office, scanning from left to right to familiarize myself with the space in case she comes at me.
A white desk sits in front of the large, arched window on the other side, looking out over what appears to be a small courtyard. Storage lines the wall to my left, while another door is fixed against the wall to my right, and a tan leather sofa sits against the wall beside me.
